


Half-Magic Bookstore Girl

by susiephalange



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bookstores, Canon Compliant, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Kissing, Magic, Post-Doctor Strange (2016), Soulmates, near mugging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 09:31:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13408374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susiephalange/pseuds/susiephalange
Summary: To be honest, the whole notion of magic was not quite as shocking to you as to other people; your grandmother, and her mother, and her grandmother all had the Sight themselves, and with that, had the ability to see strange things that were within the world. That was great and all, but it was 2018, and New York City had used its capacity for magic up when it allowed for the superheroes to roam.





	Half-Magic Bookstore Girl

**Author's Note:**

> A request from a Wattpad user.

As the primary owner to the bookshop on the corner of West street, it should have been more of a shock to you when you found a very special book come in with the shipping of new stock. To be honest, the whole notion of magic was not quite as shocking to you as to other people; your grandmother, and her mother, and her grandmother all had the Sight themselves, and with that, had the ability to see strange things that were within the world. That was great and all, but it was 2018, and New York City had used its capacity for magic up when it allowed for the superheroes to roam.

You’d went almost all your twenty-seven years of life without seeing a scrap of magic, and yet, when it arrived, it wasn’t that much of a shock. Because laying within the crate between the new titles for upcoming release and the freshly minted special edition printed _Mr. Men & Little Miss_ series, was a different book.

It had a leather cover, bound with strange markings, and once your fingertips touched it, you felt a chill run up your arms, settling behind your neck. Sure, you’d seen your grandmother practicing simple disappearing spells on teacups from the kitchen to the bathroom, but they never had the same _feel_ as this item.

The only logical thing to do was flip the sign to the shop to _closed!_ and sit in the back room with a cup of peppermint tea and a slice of lemon cake and stare at the thing.

“Um…hello?” you speak to the book, like it’s alive. It’s better to be respectful than not, and treating it like an equal was one way to do that. “My name’s ________. If you could –,”

With all the windows closed in the back room, there was a sudden breeze that smelt of summer wind, and the cover and pages flicked open, sending your tea dribbling down your fingers as you jumped. Slowly, the pages stopped moving, until it settled upon an open spread nearly midway in the book. But peering, you saw that there were no words upon the page, no pictures, no lines, or markings at all. There were only blank pages the colour of aged parchment or tea-stained napkins.

“What are you showing me?” you ask the book. Beside you, a biro began to wobble, shaking where it lay upon the table. Discarding your tea, your fingers take the ballpoint pen, and move to the open book. “You want me to draw? I’m rubbish, I can only draw clouds, and they look like hats…” the pen pulsates in your fingers, and moving itself, puts its tip down upon the page, and writes a word.

 _Hello_.

“Write? I can write,” you tell the book, chuckling under your breath. If this magical book that acted like it was part Ouija board knew anything about you, it was once upon a time before dropping out of college, you had worked toward a degree in writing literature. “Alright, here we go…”

 _Hello_ , was already written… _my name is ________._ _Is anyone there?_

* * *

Somewhere across the world, there was a sorcerer supreme who seemed a bit down on his luck. Of all days, this could have potentially been a good one, but, alas, it was not. The magic he channelled into his hands to heal was not working so well, and he had woken up with an ache within his phalanges, riding up his arms until he felt mildly annoyed. Ever since he expended a lot of energy aiding the Asgardian prince Thor and his brother Loki in their quest, he found himself tired often. Perhaps he needed to consult some more ancient texts for guidance, or meditate.

But he wasn’t doing those today. Instead, he was cataloguing the recent intake of relics found all over Earth and the known galaxies, and taking precautionary reasoning with all of them. Not all had come from friendly guests, and not all had been taken willingly, but, there was magic within all of them. Wong, the former librarian of Kamar-Taj, was helping him with this task, and within a short amount of time, they were nearly all secured.

“I do not see why we do not put them into a safe location _after_ we find them,” Wong grumbled, “letting them sit around isn’t a good practice, Strange.”

He nodded absently, tired, and not taking in the words of his colleague. “Hmm.” The other man shook his head, and moved on to the next artefact to store. But the item, a small leather-bound book with strange markings on it moved from his reach, and with its own magic, flew itself into the hands of Doctor Strange.

“We’ve got a runner!” Wong cried, starting the spell for fire with his hands.

But Stephen waved him off, feeling a sensation run through his entire body at the mere touch of the book. He recognised some of the markings – one for protection, for balance, and upon the top of the spine, the mark of the Ancient One. Though misguided in her later years, he understood the gist of what his old teacher had gotten into, and in hindsight, understood her. His fingers fumbled at the edge of the book, working to open the pages when they moved on their own once more, opening to the near mid-centre, where eight words were written with penmanship he hadn’t seen before.

“Did the Ancient One tell you anything about this book?” He asked Wong, showing him the marking upon the top of the spine. “…this is strange, I feel something bizarre about it, like…like it’s supposed to happen.”

Wong raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re going crazy too,” he said, and moving toward where he stood, pointed to the mark. “She had many secrets in her time, but…” he glanced around the room, making sure they were alone, “she did confide in me that she had created an artefact. Twin books, alike in every way, meant to be found by people who were destined to meet.”

Stephen looks once more at the words, wondering what it meant for him.

“Do you have a pen on you?”

* * *

Closing the shop up for the day, you turned the key in the door, and set down the way with your messenger bag and playlist of Pink Floyd. The best part about being the primary owner of the store meant that you could close the store at five, count the draws, tidy up for the next day, and be out by five thirty. But today, with the sun going lower in the city skyline, night came faster, and so did the trouble that followed. While you loved living in Hell’s Kitchen for all the great history and things found in impossible places, those same impossible places produced people who would do terrible, terrible things.

You turned down your music as you came to a street corner a block away from your apartment block, feeling a niggling sensation in the back of your mind that you were being followed. A quick glance in the streetlight-lit reflection of the deli behind you proved that suspicion correct; there were two men, and a woman following you. As soon as the light turned green, you walked out, but even though your fear is incensing you to fly, you don’t stop long enough to see the speeding taxi.

It’s then a golden circle of light appears, and the taxi disappears – falling into the circle, and appearing three feet away, out of another circle. Your eyes are wide, and the girl who had been following you bolted away at the sight of magic.

But the two men were still there, and all you could do to your feet was wiggle your toes, not run away. When ever had wiggling your toes been an advantage in a moment like this? Rummaging in your messenger bag, you look for something that can be used to deter them, some sort of weapon, but all your fingers can find is the magical book you came upon this morning.

“Get away from me!” you cry out, holding the book like it’s a baseball bat, ready to whack one of the men following you. It wasn’t a copy of _Eragon_ , stuffed-full of 1,000+ pages, but still, you’d been to softball camp eight summers in a row during childhood, and right now, were filled with rage and confusion and would fight to the very end. “Want a piece of me now?”

As you said that, the men shook where they stood, looking afraid. You were just normal ol’ ________, nothing scary about you except for the fury you had for people who returned borrowed books back with dogears and stains. Glancing over your raised arms, you see a man. He has a kind face, focused, with slim eyes and trim facial hair. He wears blue and red, a mystical cape flowing behind him as he floats behind you. Hands raised, there are glowing sparks and shapes coming from his moving hands, and he projects them toward your would-be attackers.

But while one goes to run, the other grabs a loose brick from the nearby storefront, and throws it toward the floating man behind you. You manage to duck in time, but the two-fingered ring falls from his hand, clattering to the pavement. While the man approaches, undeterred by the magic, you dive for the strange ring upon the pavement of Hell’s Kitchen.

The book in your hand vibrates at the presence of this artefact, your fingers fumble, trying to work the ancient good luck and magic that your grandmother had told you time after time while raising you. Within seconds, you manage to create a circle of golden light like you’d seen before, and grabbing the ankle of the man behind him, you pull him into the circle, away.

* * *

Stephen Strange had never seen a common person use a sling ring. He’d never had good luck with them, either, and when he sees the frightened yet determined face of the woman before him operating it, he was taken aback. Even more so when she took his ankle in her grasp, and pulled him into the portal.

When he opens his eyes, he’s atop a building of apartments upon the roof, standing unsteadily at the unwilling transportation. Looking over the city, he sees he’s travelled a block away from where he had just been, rescuing the girl who had written to him in the magical artefact.

She knelt before him, panting, a small pool of sick in a puddle beside her.

“How do you know how to use a sling ring?” He asks her, kneeling to her level. Using his grasp of magic, he sends her expelled vomit elsewhere, and pushes her chin up, so he can see her face clearer. She looks just like anyone he could see in the world – ordinary. Except…her eyes. They stare back at him, and he feels the same that he did when he looked at the handwriting in the book. “How did you encounter the magical book created by the Ancient One?”

She chuckles. “I’m half magic,” she tells him, like it’s an inside joke he doesn’t understand. “All the women in my family are, all the way back in history.”

He raises an eyebrow. “That’s highly unusual.”

“Well, so is having a guy appear out of nowhere and scare a pair of muggers off.” She retorts. “And to be honest, I didn’t know what your ring did. I just…got a pull to it. You can have it back,” she takes it from her fingers, and places it in his hands. “Good thing I saved myself.”

He blinks, wading through the sarcasm, but undeterred, he asks, “Are you the ________ who wrote in the book?” She sits there, silent. Then, she nods. Using his mystical abilities, Stephen reaches into the mirror dimension where he stored his copy, and writes in the space under where her text had been. “I would look in your book if I were you.”

He opens his to where he wrote earlier with Wong’s quill, taking in his terrible doctor’s handwriting.

_Hey there. My name is Stephen, and I’m here._

She reads the words, and looks to him. Then glances back at her pages, and then back to him. “This wasn’t there earlier.” He shows his copy of the book to her, where he conjures a pen, and begins to write upon the page. As he does, it appears on her pages, and quiet, she sits there, dumbfounded. Then, “How did _you_ get the book?”

Stephen closes his copy, and clears his throat. “It was from a raid upon an old stronghold of the followers of a rouge sorcerer, Kaecilius. While we recovered old scriptures and artefacts, we also found a book, leather-bound, and containing nothing but empty pages and runes on the cover. He turns the book over, running his fingers over them. “A friend of mine said the previous Sorcerer Supreme created two books, alike in every way that were meant to be found by people who were destined to meet.”

________ frowned. “Destined? Like soulmates or something?”

Stephen shrugged. “Something like that, I suppose. She saw into the future, and died recently. As I understand, she had some tie to me in that way, but you…perhaps she was a part of your lineage.”

“Wow,” she whispers, and leaning toward him, goes to sink her head against his chest. But Stephen moves at the wrong time, and suddenly they are nearly inches away from their lips touching each other’s, and ________ laughs. It’s warm against his skin, and before he knows it, her hands are around his shoulders, and they’re kissing. “I’ve already had a crazy day, kissing you just feels right.”

As they break apart, he pushes the hair from her eyes, taking her in. Maybe the Ancient One wasn’t so blinded by her actions, and her foresight with this venture was something he needed, that ________ needed.

“So, half-magic bookstore girl,” he says, smiling as he saw how the stars above reflected into her eyes. “Can I walk you to your home, and then ask if we can do this once more?”

She considers his proposal, kissing his cheek. “Yeah, except I don’t want to be nearly mugged next time. Sorcerer.”

**Author's Note:**

> Buy me [ko-fi](https://www.ko-fi.com/M4M3P4NJ)?
> 
> If you have any requests, find me on Tumblr at @susiephalange, or [@phalangewrites](https://phalangewrites.tumblr.com/request_conditions) ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ✿


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